


All These Years

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Haylor, Jealousy, One Shot, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: On a scale of one to ten, how bad is wanting to run off with someone at your best friend’s wedding?





	All These Years

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Harry day!! A super thank you to those who told me to listen to All These Years by Camila Cabello (definitely recommend listening before reading if you haven't already!), and especially to [this](http://alltootay.tumblr.com/post/169951765380/you-said-you-would-do-a-all-these-years-song) anon who gave me something solid to work from. This ended up a tad short (by my standards, anyway) but I hope you still enjoy it! xx

 

On a scale of one to ten, how bad is wanting to run off with someone at your best friend’s wedding?

Less than five. All the romance in the air and champagne doing the rounds is bound to stir even the most stubborn of cynics.

But if the person you want is your ex, and you both came with other people? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

They had both known they would be seeing each other today. Long before Ed had popped the question and Cherry had said yes, Taylor and Harry had known they would both be there to watch the day Ed got married. As it turned out, the knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

There was a time where they had both privately fantasized about their reunion. Maybe they would reignite their spark over slices of wedding cake, and end up being the classy guests who sneak off to shag in a hallway closet at the reception, because they never could keep their hands off each other, could they?

And it probably would’ve happened too, despite the time that had passed since they were last together. Only neither of them were unattached now; they had other lovers to embrace the magic with.

It hadn’t bothered either of them in the lead up to the wedding at all. It had barely occurred to them that things might be anything other than normal, plain old hi-how-are-you-it’s-good-to-see-you-again-have-a-nice-rest-of-your-life. They were distant friends. They didn’t fool around anymore. What was past was _way_ in the past.

They were delightfully happy and stable in their new relationships. There was absolutely no reason for them to be affected by the other’s presence at the wedding.

Except that, sometimes, matters of the heart didn’t make sense. Sometimes, the one you wanted wasn’t the one that you should.

For Harry, it was when he was heading into the church with the rest of the groomsmen. Their car had left the hotel they had been getting ready at after the bridal party, and they walked in to find the women, all dressed in matching pastel gowns, laughing amongst themselves. His eyes zeroed in on Taylor out of habit – god, he could spot her in any room, no matter how crowded – and his breath caught in his throat. His heart traitorously quickened, and he was caught off guard by his sudden urge to go over there and sweep her off her feet.

Her hair was longer than he remembered it. Half pinned up at the back, the rest fell down her back in golden curls. Not the natural mess she woke up with, but careful ringlets made loosely by a stylist. He always had loved her hair curled.

Her dress fell softly over the curves of her body, the very silhouette he had once known by heart. If he let himself picture her, he could pinpoint where she had freckles dotting her skin, where she liked to be kissed, where he used to leave his own marks. But he couldn’t do that, not here, not now, not again.

For Taylor, it wasn’t until the ceremony started. They had managed to skirt around each other beforehand, thanks to the bridal party organising themselves in one of the small rooms of the church. Jitters of anticipation bounced between the girls, all the way up until the bridesmaids began to make their way down the aisle, leading the way for the bride.

Being the tallest, Taylor was at the back of the line, a small posy of roses clasped in her hands. Sitting in one of the pews near the front was Joe, whose face lit up upon laying eyes on her, all dolled up. She couldn’t help smiling back at him; he looked so handsome in his dark suit, an attractive complement to her soft style.

When she looked back ahead of her, though, her gaze was drawn to the groomsmen standing to one side. One unmistakable groomsmen: hair styled back, curling slightly at the ends, Harry had on a sharp black suit, his cream dress shirt underneath featuring the subtlest embroidered pattern that set him apart from the others standing by his sides. His buttons were done up respectably – surely Ed hadn’t told him he wasn’t allowed to flash his tats at the wedding. Maybe his girlfriend had done them up for him. But no, if it were Taylor, she would want to leave them as undone as he always seemed to like, so she could perv on the cheeky peek of his chest during all the official talk.

She gave him a small, friendly smile, for he was already looking at her, and she didn’t want to blank him, not when her heart did the same sort of thing as it had moments before when looking at her boyfriend.

Positioned in angled lines on either side of the podium, they were in each other’s peripheral vision whilst the ceremony took place. It wasn’t so hard to block it out – they were watching their best friend marry the love of his life mere metres in front of their very eyes, for god’s sake. But there was still some small awareness, the same signal of ‘I’m here’ that they had always given each other when they were in the same room. They had never known how to switch it off.

It was time apart that had done them good. Taylor had dated other guys, finally found one that felt really right for her. Harry had his fun, and found someone he too wanted to spend his time with. They didn’t think about each other so often anymore – they had moved on. Their partners sitting in the pews were physical proof of that.

But what if…

No. The body’s reactions related to their attraction. Physical attraction didn’t fade the same as emotional attraction did – so what if they still thought the other looked breathtaking in their wedding attire? It didn’t mean anything, except that their body’s make up was drawn to the other’s. That was all.

After the beautifully spoken “I do” and the kiss that would seal a lifetime of promises, a lightness lifted the air. Guests lingered in varying degrees of emotion, while the wedding party was escorted to the church gardens for photographs. It was then that Harry worked up the nerve to talk to Taylor, as if he really needed to be nervous after all these years.

It was just a quick hello, where he gently touched her elbow to get her attention. He could smell her perfume, and she tried very hard to ignore the spark that still shot up her arm at his simple touch.

“You look wonderful, Taylor,” he needed to make sure she knew. He didn’t doubt that she had been receiving compliments all day, but he needed her to know that he was still among those who found her so delightfully enchanting.

“Thank you,” she politely returned, a little surprised. Her smile reached her eyes, glinting in clear pools of blue. “You look handsome. I like your shirt.”

“Oh?” Harry laughed a bit, glancing down at himself if only to stop himself from sinking into the depths of her ocean eyes, full of unspoken words and promises they never got to keep. “Thank you.”

While his difference from the other groomsmen was only minor, of course Taylor had noticed it. Just like Harry noticed the silver pendant hanging around her neck, the letter ‘J’ inscribed on the small disk. He wondered where her boyfriend was now.

They were separated again while the photographer arranged the party around the prime backdrops the garden had to offer, yet Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did she still have that necklace he had given her, amongst other things, all those years ago? The paper airplane had been his favourite at the time, ironically becoming the symbol for their relationship that wasn’t built to last.

Of course, her favourite would now be the initial pendant she wore with pride. But had she tossed out all the things that reminded her of him, because she had found someone new?

It could’ve been a ‘H’ she wore, if things had turned out differently.

Harry had the pleasure of meeting Taylor’s boyfriend once they wrapped up the photographs. He hadn’t spotted Camille in the small groups that had worked their way outside the church, but he got to watch Joe kiss Taylor, which he hadn’t needed, regardless of having someone to kiss as well.

No one wanted to see their ex kissing someone else, he reminded himself. So what was that funny feeling in his stomach that was suspiciously similar to jealousy?

Trying to shake it off, Harry walked on past the pair, carefully casting his eyes _anywhere_ else. It wasn’t so easy when Taylor called out his name and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard without feeling like an asshole.

“You’ve got a bit of…” Taylor let him know when he turned to face her, trailing off as she gestured to her hair. Touching his own, he found a few lost leaves stuck in between the dark strands – he _knew_ the photographer had gotten him way too close to a low hanging branch.

Extracting them out and flicking them onto the grass, Harry laughed it off. “Thanks,” he said, expecting that to be all, until Taylor looped a hand around her boyfriend’s arm assertively.

“This is Joe,” she introduced him, smiling as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. “Joe, this is Harry.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry made sure to get in first, stepping forward and extending out a friendly hand.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Joe smiled back at him as they shook hands. Of course, he already knew who Harry was. Did it bother him that he was here, that Taylor wasn’t ignoring him completely like she would with some other exes? Harry hoped so.

“I’ve got to go find Camille, but maybe we can catch up later,” Harry said to them, tipping his head politely. “See you at the reception.”

With a hasty exit, Harry got himself away from the attractive blonde couple. They weren’t nearly as striking together as Taylor had been with Harry. Whether that was fair to say or not, Harry didn’t care. It was the truth.

Once Harry was a few long strides away, Taylor leaned back into Joe, giving him another kiss to prove that he was the one she wanted. Prove it to him, to Harry, or to herself – she didn’t know. Did it matter?

They avoided each other at the reception. Back at the hotel, guests filled the ballroom in a glittering array of finery, laughing over glasses of bubbly. It wasn’t overly extravagant – Ed would’ve been more than happy to have a completely low-key wedding, with only a few family and friends, but they had gone all out for their celebration. They had the means; a wonderful day to remember was just what Cherry deserved.

The newlyweds looked over the moon, as they flitted around, talking to and accepting congratulations from everyone, almost always together. Both of them were glowing, with constant smiles that positively exuded exuberance. Love was a beautiful thing – they were living, beaming, blushing proof of that.

But love could be confusing and complicated, as well. It was rarely ever clean cut, which wasn’t a bad thing. Being left with more questions than answers, never knowing quite where things stood, however, _was_. That was always how things had been with Taylor and Harry. Even after they could talk things through, figure out what had gone wrong, it wasn’t simple, with unnamed feelings stubbornly floating about, in the background but always there.

Always there. Never temporary.

An awful lot like love.

So when Taylor took to the piano for the couple’s first dance, they both had more than one person in mind.

When Ed had asked if she would sing at the wedding, Taylor had been overwhelmingly honoured – and terrified. Ed, the master of love songs, was asking _her_ to come up with something just as magical. It had taken her some time, pouring over the Polaroids she had of Ed and Cherry for inspiration, but she had written a personal ballad on her piano back home, hoping with all her heart that she had succeeded in capturing the essence of their spark.

Joe had been there in the back of her mind while she had worked on it, drawing on some of her own feelings of love. For she loved him – they had become much more than she had expected when they met that night in a bar – and she would be outright lying if she said she had never thought of him as The One.

Surely, if she truly meant it, she wouldn’t have glanced at Harry while she was performing a ballad about a love she knew was everlasting.

While he had refrained from stealing glances at her since the reception began, Harry couldn’t stop himself now either. He had a lump forming in his throat, which wasn’t entirely from watching his best friend have his first dance with the woman he now called his wife. Worst of all, Camille was snuggled up beside him, while he thought of the one he used to hold close.

As more couples began to take to the floor again, Harry asked Camille to dance, where he felt more at ease with his hands on the small of her back, the solid form of her body bringing him back to reality. He was here with _her_. He cared very much about _her_. Taylor’s presence did nothing to change that.

Soon he was flirting with Camille again, as normal as ever, her smile giving him that same warm feeling. He made her laugh, and he kissed her on the dance floor, not giving a damn who saw.

Taylor did. After performing her heartfelt song to a much-appreciating audience, she had been relieved of piano duty, where she was offered compliments on her way back to her boyfriend. They had their own slow dance, where she felt safe in Joe’s embrace. It still wasn’t enough to prevent the stab of jealousy she was struck by upon spotting Harry making out with Camille across the room in front of everyone. Thank god she was looking over Joe’s shoulder, where he couldn’t see her face.

Of course Harry had found another blonde, she thought scathingly. He was always trying to replace her with another pretty blonde.

It never worked.

What would she have done if he had asked her for another chance? Harry had always been too afraid of hearing no that he had never taken the risk; it was easier to fool around, no strings attached. They were kidding themselves by pretending feelings hadn’t been involved ever since they broke up all those years ago.

Timing. It was always about damn timing.

What happens when you meet the one you want when you’re eighteen years old and you’re too young to know how to keep her?

You lose her. You both move on (or try to, anyway). You watch another man take her heart. You watch him hold her hand and make her laugh, just like you used to. You watch him kiss her, and you wonder if he’s better than you are. You have your best friend snag a moment alone with you to ask if you’re alright, even though it’s his wedding day and he shouldn’t have noticed that you were watching her. You tell him yes, though both of you know there’s more to it than that.

You don’t know that a part of her wants to cry, because the minute she laid eyes on you, it all came flooding back. Just like it did for you.

They got a photo together, courtesy of the roving photographer, Ed insisting on having one of the three of them. Both had suspicions it was a bit of a play: it wouldn’t be the first time that friends tried to coax them back together, to talk at least. It worked, too: after their smiling shot, arms around Ed in between, they got to talking, just for a short while.

“Your song was beautiful,” Harry told her, though it wasn’t nearly enough to capture what he really thought. “They’re very lucky they had you to write one.”

“Well, Ed’ll be writing _ours_ ,” Taylor attempted to shrug it off. Quickly realising what she just said, she laughed nervously, cheeks turning charmingly pink. “I don’t mean– not _our_ wedding– my one and your one–”

“I get it,” Harry smiled at her, saving her from her embarrassed rambling. It was always so cute when she got like that; with a shy smile, she brushed her hair back and glanced down, lips twitching more as she recognised the black Gucci shoes he had of course worn. “How is everything?”

“‘Everything’ is a broad subject,” she replied, regaining her composure as she looked back up.

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s good. I’ve had a lot of fun working again.”

“You did make _quite_ the comeback.”

They both laughed lightly. Could anyone else tell that their hearts were beating irregularly hard?

“How is everything for you?”

“It’s going pretty well, yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She clasped her hands, fiddling with hesitation. “You and Camille look happy.”

“So do you and Joe.”

With an awkward pause ensuing, she regretted saying anything at all.

“You deserve to be happy, Taylor,” Harry said, his voice softening. She panicked.

“I should– I should find Joe,” Taylor hurriedly decided, beginning to glance around as an excuse to avert her eyes from his entrancing stare.

“Okay.”

As he watched her dart away, Harry longed to go after her. Perhaps if he had, many years ago, she wouldn’t be running away from him, not now, not again, not ever.

They spent the rest of the night at a distance, staying with the ones who gave them happiness instead of old fluttering feelings that should’ve been long gone by now. There were no reigniting sparks over slices of wedding cake, no giggles over too many glasses of champagne, no sneaking off for a dark place to hide. They would never betray their lovers like that, especially not for an attraction that lived and breathed uncertainty.

If they had come alone, though, perhaps it would be a different story.

When Harry and Camille went to call it a night (well, to find a dark place in the security of their hotel room, anyway), they did the rounds of saying goodbye to the friends who were left. They congratulated the bride and groom, who had _definitely_ had many celebratory glasses to drink; they were in for some fun later, he was sure.

It would’ve been rude not to say goodbye to Taylor; Harry led Camille over to where Taylor and Joe hovered by the food table, both with cupcakes in their hands. He saw Taylor wipe a bit of frosting off from beside Joe’s lip with her thumb, and he very nearly turned right around, regardless of manners.

Taylor had a bite of vanilla cupcake in her mouth when they reached them, and she chewed hastily with as much grace as she could muster; of course the universe would have it that Camille would see her with food stuffed in her mouth.

“We’re gonna head off,” Harry said casually, tilting his head toward the door. Taylor nodded a little too enthusiastically, and he privately wondered how much she had had to drink herself.

“It’s been good to see you again.” She cast her eyes on Camille and offered a friendly smile, hiding her question of what it was that the other girl had that she didn’t. “I love your dress. It really suits you,” she complimented genuinely, as if she didn’t know perfectly well that Harry was about to take it off her upstairs.

After Camille thanked her, told her she looked just as stunning, Taylor looked back at Harry, eyes subtly sliding down where he had released a few more buttons of his shirt during the night. Would he think of her while he took Camille to bed, pretend it was her who lay underneath him, begging for more? Now was not the first time they had undressed each other with their eyes over the course of the day.

Old habits die hard, it seemed.

“We should catch up again sometime,” Harry said, more out of formality than anything else. They both knew they wouldn’t call.

“Yeah, definitely.”

A brief hug was as close as they got that night. A quick press of their bodies, feeling each other’s familiar form through the layers of their clothes, almost painful in its teasing. How could they stand there yearning for each other when their partners were right beside them?

And yet even so, when they pulled apart, Harry shook Joe’s hand again like the gentleman he was. “’S good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Harry nodded to them both. “Take care.”

Then they left, Harry never telling her what it was he really wanted to say.

There had been a time when Taylor had thought that if she ever did find someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, Harry would be the one to interrupt her wedding, insisting that they weren’t over, that he was the right one for her. To the horror of everyone present, he would choose the last possible minute to open his heart to her, finally confess that she was still – she was _always_ the one he was after.

As cruel as it was to whichever man would stand with her at the altar, Taylor hoped it was still true.

Harry was still the one she was after, even after all these years.


End file.
